


(let me take) the friction from your lips

by sabrina_il (marina)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Friendship, Gen, Intoxication, M/M, Muslim Character, Russian character, World Juniors 2013
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 23:24:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/627670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marina/pseuds/sabrina_il
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nail does not – does <i>not</i> - intend to spend the night after his sort-of-embarrassing-loss-except-not-really-because-they-still-beat-Canada standing around in a depressing hotel hallway outside Ryan Nugent-Hopkins' room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(let me take) the friction from your lips

**Author's Note:**

> This was born as a result of [all my feels](http://marina.dreamwidth.org/1334950.html) after the U20 tournament of 2013. 
> 
> Beta'd by Cesy, Puckling and Roga, in by far the longest beta process I've ever had for a fic of this length. It was AWESOME, and every remaining mistake rests solidly on my shoulders. 
> 
> Title is from the song "What You Need" by The Weeknd.

Nail does not – does _not_ \- intend to spend the night after his sort-of-embarrassing-loss-except-not-really-because-they-still-beat-Canada standing around in a depressing hotel hallway outside Ryan Nugent-Hopkins' room. Certainly not while he's tipsy, and could be using the bottle of booze in his hand as destiny intended, getting drunk with his fellow Russian teammates.

Instead he's here, deep in Canadian territory, accompanied by not-really-only-sorta Russian, Alex gold-winning-fucker Galchenyuk. Which, god, Nail hopes that doesn't actually become the dude's new nickname. Because seriously, he's going to hang up his bronze somewhere nice and prominent, and then try not to think of this tournament for the rest of the year. He's still waiting to hear from Ovechkin on twitter about how he let down the motherland a year before Russia's due to host the Olympics.

He takes another swig from the bottle. It's a good sign that he barely feels it burning on the way down. He's never actually gotten for-real-drunk in his life, but he knows enough to know good vodka goes down smooth and easy and barely leaves an aftertaste.

"Come on," Nail says, putting the bottle down on the floor because he's starting to sway a little. "Let's go, he's not going to open the door."

"Ryan," Alex says instead, pronouncing the name in English, which means he's still aiming for Captain Canada's attention instead of answering Nail. He bangs on the door again. "Open up, come on."

Nail has a brief moment to wonder if Ryan's roommate is going to answer the door and kick their asses out of Canada's sovereign territory on The Nuge's behalf, before the door opens to reveal Ryan himself, dressed in a t-shirt and sweats and wearing that serious, faux-heroic expression on his face that everyone in the Canadian press shit themselves for.

"It's 3am," Ryan says, voice quiet and sort of angry. "What the hell are you guys doing here?"

Nail looks at Alex right as Alex turns to look at Nail.

"We here to say," Alex says, gathering himself. "Cheer up, you played good."

Nail extends an arm with the mostly full bottle of vodka.

Ryan looks from the booze to Nail, to Alex and back to Nail again. It suddenly occurs to Nail that he's spoken to this guy maybe three times in his entire life and two of those times were at the draft.

"I can't decide if you guys are the biggest assholes across two continents," Ryan says, leaning tiredly against the door frame. "Or if you're actually out of your minds."

"Doesn't matter," Nail says before realizing 'whatever' would have probably been the correct English word to use. "We come here to bring you national drink." He extends the arm with the vodka again.

Ryan's incredulous look is priceless. Nail looks at Alex to confirm this, who looks like he's barely holding it together and then Nail takes another look at Ryan's face and the bottle in his own hand and after a long, still moment the three of them start cracking up, laughing so hard Alex falls on his ass right there in the hallway.

"You… you did not," Ryan gasps out between chortles. "You did not show up here with a bottle of booze for me at 3am, you fucking morons."

"Not really, no," Nail says, voice high pitched with laughter.

"But we wanted to say sorry," Alex says, huge grin on his face, looking up from the carpet. Nail can't remember which of them had more sips from the bottle. "Because you know, Canada. It sucks."

Ryan takes a deep breath to calm himself and the smile fades from his face. "Yeah. Thanks. I think."

*

"Before you guys came in," Ryan says, accepting the bottle from Alex, "I'm pretty sure I had a dream where Jonathan Toews broke into my room to strangle me in my sleep."

"Crosby didn't come to help?" Nail says, chuckling. They're sitting on Ryan's bed – his roommate's bed neatly made and clearly untouched since the morning.

"Probably too busy digging my grave," Ryan says grimly and takes a swig. His barely lasts a second before his face contorts and he pulls the bottle away, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

"Good?" Alex grins at him.

Ryan nods, still looking a little queasy, and passes the bottle to Nail.

"Fuck it," Nail says, shrugging. "We played best game we could." He takes a small sip and passes the bottle to Alex.

Alex remains silent, and looks from Nail to Ryan with a giant, smug grin.

"Fuck you," Nail and Ryan say in unison. Alex takes a drink, tipping his head back with a smile.

"Why isn't he with his teammates again?" Ryan says to Nail, accepting the bottle from Alex. "Doesn't Team USA know how to throw a party?"

"Best party is me," Nail shrugs. He knew he'd be seeing Alex tonight before either of them knew which place their teams would be taking in the tournament.

"Yeah," Ryan says after taking a swig. "This is definitely how I'd be spending the night if I had a gold medal right now. In my PJs, sitting around drinking with the enemy."

Nail moves closer to Alex and leans on his shoulder. He's slowly beginning to lose the adrenaline high he's been on for days, and sitting up straight with his legs crossed is starting to get uncomfortable.

Ryan moves away from them, further up the bed, leaning against the headboard, visibly relaxing as well.

"It's weird," he says. "I can't feel my lips."

Nail looks up at Alex to confirm the patheticness level of Ryan's statement.

"Not drink before?" Nail says, amused, and suddenly realizes the words might not have made sense in English.

Ryan rolls his eyes, but it's a halfhearted effort. "I've had alcohol before. My dad got a really cool liquor cabinet when he got his own place. I’m not sure he ever used it, but my brother figured out how to break into it when I was thirteen. Mostly it was just, like, seven different kinds of whiskey. But I totally got drunk once," Ryan nodded to himself, looking pleased. “Plus Hallsy and Ebs took me drinking a bunch of times when we were in Canada.” He sighed. “I swear if they don’t get me an actual beer when I get back to Oklahoma I’m going to shun them for a week.” 

Alex leans back to make more room for Nail, wrapping an arm around him and letting Nail get more comfortable lying on his chest.

"So you think you’ll get call from Ovechkin?" Alex asks, and Nail knows the question's meant for him. "Thank you for your great achievement?"

Nail snorts. "We'll see when Patrick Kane calls you," he says. "For _actual_ achievement."

Alex laughs. "That's not fair! I'm not even captain! Patrick Kane will call me next year, when he’s inviting me to play with him in Sochi," he grins.

Nail bursts out laughing, grabbing Alex’s shirt to stay upright. Alex chuckles along with him.

Ryan goes into a giggle fit, taking sips from the bottle to calm himself.

"Seriously though, guys," Ryan says, a note of gravity settling into his tone. "Pretty sure Toews is going to show up here at some point tonight. Possibly with a chainsaw."

*

"Oh my god, we need to get out of here," Alex says weakly, as the early morning sun begins to shine into the room.

It makes Nail realize that 1) he'd been curled up mostly-asleep on Ryan's bed, 2) Ryan's curled up totally-and-utterly-asleep in a nearby chair, and 3) Alex is… apparently spread out on the floor, shirtless, for some reason.

Nail stretches and yawns. Fuck, he needs a hot shower. He can feel the tension in his muscles from the stress of the last few days.

"Yeah, come on," he says, gradually rolling off the bed and putting his shoes on as Alex searches for his shirt and rubs at his eyes.

The bottle on the coffee table is half empty. Nail grabs it – leaving it here for someone to find is a bad idea. Ryan's roommate might show up at some point – or better yet, Canada's coach might decide to give Ryan a personal wake up call after he sleeps through their scheduled bus departure or something.

But no, that's ridiculous. Of course Ryan Nugent-Hopkins has seven alarms set for every important occasion. He'll be fine.

"Come on," Alex says in Russian, holding the door of the room open. "I gotta get back to my room, seriously."

Nail finishes tying his shoelaces and gives the room one final overview. Nothing's really changed from last night, but somehow everything looks different with the rays of the early sun intruding through the giant window.

The captain of Team Canada and Nail's future teammate is curled up in an uncomfortable looking chair, sleeping off exhaustion and booze and the disappointment that Nail's grateful as fuck not to have to live with. He'll get shit in the press, of course, but at least he walked away with a medal.

"Yeah, OK, let's go," Nail says, mostly to himself, before joining Alex. Beyond the door is the corridor and the lockout and freezing Ufa and the celebration he is goddamn going to have with his teammates before they all disperse.

But thinking of the room he left behind makes Nail smile. It's been a fucking awful tournament, but there's a team waiting for him back home, a team he'll be allowed to actually join, god willing, at some point, and he's never been happier and more anxious about that than he is in this moment.


End file.
